


honey sweet and slow

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, honeymoon fic, prayer circle for viktor's dick, sappy nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: Viktor wakes not for the first time to the sound of waves, the faintest rustle of sheets, and most importantly, the sound of Yuuri’s steady breathing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kokuchim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokuchim/gifts).



> idk guys. apologies again for the subpar porn?? i got too used to writing fade-to-blacks that it took me a damn week to work out the logistics of how sex works. you'd think after reading a ton of fanfiction, i'd learn something, but alas. i'm banning myself from writing smut for a while. 
> 
> dedicated to kokuchim. bitch you know what you did. 
> 
> possibly chock-full of mistakes. hit me up for any glaring errors.

Viktor wakes not for the first time to the sound of waves, the faintest rustle of sheets, and most importantly, the sound of Yuuri’s steady breathing. He blinks away the last vestiges of sleep, burrowing impossibly closer to where his husband— _his husband_ because they were finally, finally _married_ and are on a much well-deserved honeymoon and _just how did Viktor get so lucky_ —was curled up tight against him. Yuuri is still fast asleep, back pressed tight to Viktor’s chest and looking so incredibly beautiful. He briefly nuzzles into Yuuri’s hair and presses a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck—one of Viktor’s many favorite spots—before carefully disentangling his arms away from where they were wrapped securely around the other man. Yuuri makes a soft noise when Viktor sits up, brows furrowing at the loss and Viktor has to fight the urge to go back and cuddle.

He hastily slips on a robe, escaping to the sitting area of their cottage. The room’s a mess from last night, various items of clothing strewn about, and he quickly makes a beeline for the phone and calls for housekeeping and breakfast.

“A full breakfast, yes.” He tells the concierge with a small hum, “Yes, just have them leave it in the sitting room. No, that’s all. Thank you.” He says and hangs up, absently surveying the stillness of the sitting room before his gaze falls on the DSLR camera he’d haphazardly thrown on the couch during last night's flurry.

The camera, Phichit’s official wedding gift (the unofficial one being an 8 GB thumb drive containing several pictures and videos of Yuuri back in Detroit, the most impressive of which is a high-quality video of a younger Yuuri pole dancing to _Touch My Body_ ), finds its way to Viktor’s hands.

“ _Some pictures you’ll want to keep to yourself_ ,” Phichit had told him with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Yuuri had groaned, burying his flushed cheeks into Viktor’s shoulder and whining at his best friend to stop. “ _But I’d still love some Instagram posts every now and then. Especially since you’re whisking my best friend off to who-knows-where for your honeymoon_.”

And so Viktor had taken a crash course on shutter speeds and light sensitivity settings a few weeks before they left for the honeymoon, because he wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking he can magically operate an actual camera after his stint with cellphone photography. Of course, even after buying a guide and watching countless YouTube tutorials, Viktor still has auto focus on most of the time.

Phichit is, of course, correct when he’d said that there were pictures he was going to want to keep for himself. Because as much as he wants to show off to the world how lucky he is, wants to scream from the mountaintops how much he loves Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, he also wants to hoard each and every moment and keep them under lock and key inside a box he keeps on top of his heart. The world has no right to the way Yuuri’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiles at Viktor, or to the way Yuuri looks when he’s high on pleasure and panting on the sheets. These things are for Viktor and Viktor alone.

Idly flipping through the set of pictures he'd taken yesterday, Viktor makes his way back to the bedroom and feels his breath catch at the sight that greets him.

In his absence, Yuuri had rolled onto his stomach, his back a perfect curve against the stark whiteness of the sheets, which had bunched teasingly on the curve of a hip, just above the inviting curves of his ass. And with the morning light streaming in unobstructed from the wide windows that opened to the waterfront, Yuuri was a vision bathed in gold and before he knows it, Viktor has the camera focused on the play of light against Yuuri’s skin, the shutter going off almost as an afterthought.

_Click._

He takes another photo showcasing the gold band— _the good luck charm turned engagement ring turned wedding ring_ —on his husband’s finger.

_Click._

And another that waxes poetic about the way Yuuri’s eyelashes kiss his cheeks—

_Click._

—and another until the hushed silence of the room is littered with the sounds of the shutter going off. Viktor’s busy admiring the latest shot: Yuuri’s face pressed against the pillow, nose scrunched up and mouth slightly open, that he almost, almost misses the distinctive sound of movement on the bed. He looks up just in time to see Yuuri blinking blearily at him, those plush lips curving into a soft, sweet smile that gets Viktor every single time.

“Aren’t you sick of taking pictures of me?” Yuuri asks quietly, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“Never,” Viktor assures him, lifting the camera yet again, entranced with the angles that Yuuri’s new position made. “I love how you look right now, солнышко моё.” He says, voice going low, and from the viewfinder, he sees Yuuri lift an eyebrow at his words.

Yuuri shifts just a tiny bit so that he's resting more comfortably on his elbows, a teasing smile starting to curl at the edges of his lips. “And how do I look like?”

“You look like mine.” Viktor says in a whisper, a plea, a breathless confession to the only deity he believes in.

“I am."

At those two words, Viktor quickly abandons the camera on the bedside table; he has far more important things to examine on the bed after all, like a sleep-soft and sex-mussed husband to name one. He crawls back into bed, arms easily bracketing Yuuri in.

“Good morning.” He sighs into the curve of Yuuri’s neck, breathing in the scent of the sea, sex, and something that was inherently Yuuri.

Yuuri lets himself be pressed down on the pile of pillows, humming happily against Viktor’s temple. “It is." He cards a hand through silver hair, delighting in the quiet purr that rumbles out of Viktor's chest. “But it could be better.”

"Oh?" Viktor says against Yuuri's skin, before peppering kisses up that swan-like neck. His lips follow the plethora of red marks he’d left before; a treasure trail that goes up, up, up towards Yuuri’s pink lips.  "Any suggestions as to how I can make it so?"

Yuuri grins, pressing a biting kiss to the sensitive underside of Viktor's jaw before ducking away and rolling back to his stomach, pointedly wiggling his hips. "I can think of a few," he says, throwing a heated look at Viktor over his shoulder.

"You are insatiable, Пряничек," Viktor groans, gaze caught by the interplay of muscle and bone under supple skin. He settles down right between Yuuri’s spread legs, squeezing a thigh as he does so.

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Витя." 

It’s not. It’s really, really not, and Viktor says so as he pulls away the sheet stubbornly trying to preserve whatever’s left of Yuuri’s modesty; a fruitless effort. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, his hands finding their way to the taper of Yuuri’s waist, searing a trail down to his hips before sliding further down to squeeze at that perfect ass. A gasp sounds above him and Viktor’s fingers dig into the meat of Yuuri’s cheeks, spreading him open and _oh fuck_ —

“ _Yuuri,_ ” Viktor says, strangled, because Yuuri’s rim is still red and swollen, well-used, and _Viktor wants._ He wants so badly that he’s dizzy with it; his cock, which had been at half-mast when this whole thing began, is now painfully hard and positively aching to be buried in Yuuri’s clutching warmth.

“Витя,” Yuuri whimpers, pushing his hips up, needy; his swollen hole twitching.

Viktor is weak when Yuuri gets like this, but he doesn’t want to rush so he reels himself in, lets the pad of a thumb brush softly against where Yuuri was scorching hot.

“Yuuri, are you sure?” He asks even as his thumb presses in. “You’re still—” Viktor chokes off when the ring of muscle gives way, the tip of his thumb sinking into Yuuri’s heat easily.

“I want it,” Yuur slurs around a moan, looking back at Viktor with pupils blown wide. “I want to feel you inside me, Витенька.”

And just who was Viktor to deny Yuuri anything?

He bursts into movement, fueled by a heady combination of want, love, and a hard dick, shrugging out of the robe he’d slipped on earlier. He drags a hand away from Yuuri’s skin to grab the bottle of lube under the pillow, taking the opportunity to press his chest against the warm skin of Yuuri’s back and relishing in the appreciative hum his husband lets out.

Before he can go back down, Yuuri turns and catches his cheek with a calloused hand and his mouth with parted lips that are begging to be devoured. Viktor groans into Yuuri’s mouth, suddenly starved for a kiss and he wonders how he’d gotten through earlier without this, wonders how he’d lived before Yuuri, without Yuuri’s drugging kisses to greet him good morning, without Yuur’s warmth melting away the ice. A clever twist of Yuuri’s tongue against his own sends Viktor’s thoughts tumbling away, drowned out in a litany of _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri_ repeated ad infinitum.

Dropping one last kiss on Yuuri’s sweetly curved lips, Viktor goes back down on his haunches, hands twisting the bottle of lube open. He ends up making a mess on the sheets when he slicks up his fingers too quickly but figures that it doesn’t really matter. It’s not as if they won’t be making an even bigger mess.

With one hand on the curve of a hip, Viktor slides two fingers in easily, right to the knuckles and Yuuri moans at the stretch against his sensitive rim, Viktor’s name spilling out of his lips.

“Витя, it’s fine. I’m ready,” Yuuri gasps, hips pushing back against Viktor’s hand, his cock dragging deliciously against the rumpled sheets with each shallow thrust. “I want your cock,” he whines petulantly, throwing Viktor a coy look over his shoulder. And it’s such a dirty trick that Viktor falls for every single time because he’s a complete sucker for everything Yuuri does.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Viktor says, roughly dragging his fingers out of Yuuri, the action garnering a shocked moan. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He hisses under his breath as he slicks himself up, groaning at the first touch to his woefully neglected cock.

He lines himself up to Yuuri’s winking hole, his earlier qualms about hurting an over-sensitized Yuuri all but gone in the face of Yuuri’s more than palpable want, and pushes in slowly until the flared head disappears into Yuuri’s heat.

 Yuuri opens up around him easily, body accepting Viktor as if he belongs there. He’s all of Viktor’s fantasies made flesh and blood. A creature of pleasure that Viktor will worship forevermore.

“God, look at you,” Viktor says reverently as he sinks into Yuuri completely, their hips flush against each other. “You take my cock so beautifully, darling, as if you were made for it.” He punctuates the sentence with a smooth roll of his hips that punches a moan out of Yuuri.

Soon, the languid roll of his hips turn into long, drawn-out thrusts that drag teasingly across Yuuri’s prostate, until he’s fucking into Yuuri loudly and enthusiastically. He reaches around to palm at Yuuri’s leaking cock only to have his hand swatted away.

“No!” Yuuri gasps with a frantic shake of his head, back arching with each snap of Viktor’s hips. “D _ohhh_ n’t— _ah_!  I w-want—“

Viktor blinks, mind running a mile a minute to try and parse out Yuuri’s words before something clicks into place, and he grins. Wolfishly.

“You want to come just from my cock?” Viktor asks with a hard thrust that has Yuuri wailing. He pulls Yuuri’s hips up, making his husband scramble at the pillows to compensate for the new angle that makes Viktor’s cock hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Yuuri with each thrust.

The slap of skin and their ragged breathing permeate the air inside the room, broken occasionally by Yuuri’s breathy moans. It’s when Yuuri lets out a garbled mess of Japanese into the pillows that Viktor feels the familiar tightening in his stomach and he drives harder and deeper, determined to make Yuuri come before he does. He glances down at where they’re connected, where he can feel Yuuri throbbing around him so deliciously. He traces his thumb over the stretched rim, Yuuri whimpering at the sensation as Viktor slowly presses his thumb in alongside his cock.

“Come for me, darling.”

“V-Viktor—I’m—“ Yuuri stutters out in a long moan, coming all over the sheets, his fucked-out and sloppy hole clenching around Viktor, who manages a half dozen more thrusts before spilling hot and wet inside Yuuri with a small cry.

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs when he finally catches his breath, his softening cock slipping out with an almost imperceptible squelch. He leans over to run a hand through dark locks and Yuuri hums contentedly, lying boneless on the bed. “Don’t fall asleep on me now, любовь моя.” He warns, because despite Yuuri’s impressive stamina in skating and in bed, the Japanese was notorious for falling asleep right after a satisfying round of sex.

And Viktor always makes sure that Yuuri is very much satisfied.

“ _’kay_.”

“ _Yuuri_.”

Yuuri makes an aggrieved noise, lifting his head from the pillow long enough to shoot Viktor a glare. “I’m not going back to sleep.” He says firmly, narrowing his eyes when Viktor raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, of course not.” Viktor acquiesces readily, ignoring Yuuri’s huff of annoyance and reaching for the complimentary package of wet wipes. He cleans himself off perfunctorily before tending to Yuuri gently and carefully. As soon as he’s done cleaning the both of them up, Viktor sidles up next to Yuuri, pulling the man into his arms and away from the wet spot on the mattress.

Yuuri readily melts into Viktor, shuffling a little but so that he can rub their noses together which prompts a delighted giggle from Viktor.

“Is your morning better now, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov?” Viktor asks, peppering soft kisses all over Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri smiles, eyes shining with affection. “It is, and it’s all thanks to you, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov.”

Later, after Yuuri has taken a quick nap _(“What happened to not going back to sleep, hm?” “Shut up, Viktor.”_ ) and after they spend too much time in the shower, they’ll stumble into the sitting room to see a spread of breakfast brought out by a red-faced attendant who Viktor will tip very generously, and they’ll eat too much and while the day away with secrets whispered into sun-warmed skin and boisterous laughter. But for now, Viktor lets warmth flood from his chest to the tips of his toes and smiles.

 

 

130k likes

 **v-nikiforov** beloved

 **yuri-plisetsky** ugh you guys are the absolute worst

 **phichit+chu** happy honeymooning you two! #Victuuri5ever #GetItGuys

 **christophe-gc** Looks like someone had a great night ;)

 **yuuri-katsuki** @christophe-gc *morning actually ;)

 **phichit+chu** omggg @yuuri-katsuki so dirty!!

 **yuri-plisetsky** S T O P  B E I N G  N A S T Y

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly set out to write some lazy morning sex, but yuuri katsuki's thirst cannot be quenched and viktor is equally as thirsty as his husband.
> 
> the russian is p much just pet names (i.e. little sun, gingerbread) and viktor's name bc i had way too much fun with the cyrillic keyboard on my phone.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [play with me some more](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084758) by [alykapedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia)




End file.
